I^B «|j«f>tc()^.- ','.:' ■''dMiSiL'*i?i'" ' ■ 'iiiMiiikiiii''a"''^^P^^^^^^ ^— «yyiiiiirnnnBi—iffr | n ^r.illllllinMlllllllil^^^MB ^^ImUgjgKM W^XBKgiJB^^w T''""S^'^^^'f ■it''^ 1 { i '" y^'^^MiMMHgBBHMaMHflniflqHM^^B H H|l[|||j||i||^ H^^^HH^^^^^R^^MIffiiiiHffiHH 1 Class gl-5 4-(rg^ Book. JxJX Coipght«« Ll_ / COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. E\)t Stutinus' Scries of lEuglislj Classitcs OLIVER GOLDSMITH'S TRAVELLER AND DESERTED VILLAGE ALSO THOMAS GRAY'S ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD EDITED BY WARREN FENNO GREGORY, A.M. SIBLEY & COMPANY BOSTON CHICAGO Copyright, 1S94, By Leach, Shewell, & Sanborn. Copyright, 1909, By Sibley & Company. 248497 l^oQ PREFACE. The purpose in presenting this little volume is to lead our students to an intimate acquaintance with two poems that for more than a centnry and a quarter have stood with the purest, most graceful, and most pleasing productions of English literature. There must be a training of the heart as well as of the intellect 5 and few writings are so fitted to accomplish this as are these masterpieces, beautiful alike in thought and expression. No true grasp of literature can be gained without a knowledge of its human side, or the author as a man. "The Traveller" and "The Deserted Village" especially demand this, as they continually reflect the feelings and experience of the poet. Goldsmith also represents a remarkable circle of men, and has an un- usually pleasing and interesting personality. For these reasons an attempt has been made to provide for a care- ful study of his life. So many have dealt with Goldsmith and his works, that a writer of the present day can here be but little iii iy PREFACE, more than "a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff." Hence, while aiming at originality in the scope of this work, and endeavoring to secure it in treatment, the author has freely drawn his material from the accu- mulated mass. ^-r^^.^T^ r>^T?nr\T>v WARREN FENNO GREGORY. Hartford (Ct.) Public High School, November, 1891. It now seems advisable to add Gray's "Elegy" to the little book which I so thoroughly enjoyed preparing fifteen years ago. Little need be said of this immortal poem beyond the mere statement of fact that an educa- tion cannot be said to be liberal without a familiarity ^ with it. Its length readily allows the only proper way to learn it, — by heart, — as for more than a century and a half so many of the good and great have found inspira- tion in doing. w F G Boston, June, 1909. CONTENTS. Biographical Sketch ..... Literary Productions of Oliver Goldsmith Introduction to The Traveller Dedication ...... The Traveller Introduction to The Deserted Village Dedication ...... The Deserted Village Introduction to Notes Notes on The Traveller . Notes on The Deserted Village Biographical Sketch of Thomas Gray Elegy in a Country Churchyard Notes on Elegy 1 16 20 22 25 41 45 47 63 65 72 79 82 88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. (1728-1774.) BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. The life of ^^ Poor Goldsmith," as he has been fa- miliarly and affectionately called, illustrates to a singular degree the force of family traits. He inherited a com- bination of goodness of heart, simplicity of mind, and faculty for enjoying the present in a spirit of abandon; blended with much shrewdness of observation, a rol- licking Irish sense of humor, and a proverbial gift for blundering in conversation. This being the case, the conditions were right for producing one of the most helpless, thriftless, disappointing, and at the same time brilliant and lovable of all our authors. The place of his birth is usually given as Pallas, County Longford, Ireland, the date being Nov. 10, 1728 ; and he was the fifth of the eight children of Charles and Ann Goldsmith. His father was at this time curate to the rector of Kilkenny West, with an income of not over £40 annually. In 1730 he succeeded his wife's uncle as rector, and settled in the pretty village of Lis- soy, having now £200 a year. Little Oliver was sent to 1 'I OLIVER GOLDSMITH. a '" dame's school " at the age of three, and impressed the mistress as being one of the dullest boys she had ever met with. At six he was sent to the village school, kept by Thomas Byrne, an old soldier who had more fondness for fairy lore and tales of war than for the usual branches. Such instruction would not make an ac- curate scholar of a boy with his imaginative mind ; but it cultivated a poetic taste, besides filling him with a burn- ing desire for travel and adventure. A severe attack of the small-pox broke off his attendance here, after which he was sent to a better school. His father's means w^ere straitened by keeping an elder son, Henry, at a classical school ; but relatives, especially his uncle. Rev. Thomas Contarine, helped him to schools which prepared him for the University. His school-life was varied ; on the one hand, he was careless and dull in all studies re- quiring steady thought, while his short, thick, ungainly figure, his never handsome features, pitted with the marks of disease, and his chronic blundering brought him in among the boys for a full share of ridicule, to which his natural sensitiveness and self-consciousness rendered him all the more liable. On the other hand, his fondness for the Latin poets secured kindly attention from his teachers, while his generous heart and fondness for sports brought the good-will of his mates, even if they did at times make merry at his 'expense. One of many anecdotes may be introduced here. On his way home from his last fitting-school, supplied by friends wi^h a horse and a guinea, he determined to play BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ^ the man at an inn. He was sent as a joke to the house of a prominent family. These people kindly allowed the mistake to go on, so that Goldsmith swaggered through the whole performance, only to learn the true state of things next morning, to his great mortification. He afterwards used this occurrence upon which to base his comedy, " She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night." College came next ; but his sister Catherine had pri- vately married the son of a rich neighbor, and family pride prompted his father to raise a dowry of £400. This so reduced his resources that Oliver had to enter Trinity College, Dublin, as a " sizar," or poor-student, who worked in part payment of his expenses, and was distinguished by his dress. He felt the humiliation, but contrived to be merry in a happy-go-lucky way. He was fond of the flute, and played by ear with consider- able sweetness. His father died in 1747, but his uncle Contarine helped him at times, and he struggled on; sometimes writing street^ballads for sale, and again pawning his books. His nature fitted him for getting into trouble, and he was once admonished for aiding in a riot in which a bailiff was ducked and some lives lost in the attempted storming of a jail. At another time he ran away to Cork after being caned by a tutor for givnig a dance in his room. He had no money to go farther ; and his brother Henry arranged his return, after which he succeeded in taking the degree of B.A. in 1749. The next thing was the choice of a profession for the 4 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. idle fellow who was living on his friends, enjoying him- self at rustic merry-makings, and learning French from priests. He was first designed for the church, and after two years of probation was rejected by the bishop. It is said that this was for presenting himself for orders while wearing scarlet breeches. After trying and giving up a tutorship, his relatives raised £50 for him, and with great satisfaction, no doubt, saw him mounted on a good horse, and starting for Cork to emljark for America, only to have him return on a wretched beast and without a penny, having lost all in his reckless adventures. Law was the next in order, and good uncle Contarine raised £50 more to start him as a lawyer in London. He came back as usual, after losing his money gambling in Dub- lin. The only profession left to try was that of medi- cine ; and, supplied again with a moderate sum, he started for the medical school at Edinburgh, this time never to return. After eighteen months of desultory work here, he wished to study abroad, and with more money from his faithful uncle he arrived in Holland after sundry mis- fortunes. A fellow-countryman befriended him in Ley- den, but afterwards advised him to leave, as gamblers, who were taking all he had, were getting too strong a hold on him. He then started for Paris with his flute, a guinea, and an extra shirt. He wandered through France and Switzerland, chiefly on foot, playing on his flute many times to secure food and lodging from the peasants. In Italy, the land of music, this would not BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 5 avail, and he is said to have taken part in disputes, or debates, at universities and convents, where the con- testant would be entitled to a supper and a bed. While at Padua, where some claim that he took the degree of Bachelor of Medicine, while others say that he had pre- viously taken it at Louvain in France, his Uncle Con- tarine died, and his irregular an 1 scanty remittances of money now ceased entirely, so that he retraced his wan- derings. He arrived at Dover in 1756 in complete destitution ; and while his improvidence made all his life a hard one, the next live years are peculiarly distressing, being wholly devoid of the compensations which his subse- quent fame brought. He appears to have sought in vain for a place as chemist's assistant, and is said to have tried the stage, in a humble way, for a brief period. There is no definite account of his life at this time, but it is evident that he drifted towards London in a state of beggary. Here he is known to have beeij employed in a school, and then in a chemist's laboratory. A good Quaker physician who had been a fellow-student at Edinburgh encouraged him to practise medicine, which he did for a time in the suburbs, but unprofitably, as his patients were mainly among the poor, and could not pay him. His friend. Dr. Sleigh, helped him to a little writ- ing for the booksellers ; and a patient who was a printer for Samuel Richardson, a rich publisher and also author of "Pamela" and other novels, secured for him an in- troduction to his employer. Eichardson gave him a 6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. little work and helped him to make some acquaintances, among whom was Dr. Young, author of " Xight Thoughts." Another friend was Dr. Milner, also from Edinburgh, whose father kept a classical school, of which Goldsmith, now giving up medicine, was placed in charge during the proprietor's illness. While with the Milners he met Griffiths, a bookseller, who published the Monthly Review. Goldsmith was given employment on this in 1757 at a small salary, and was thus fairly started as a literary drudge. He could not long endure the exactions of the employer and his wife ; and now having a little acquaintance with publishers, he shifted for himself, doing any writing that came his way. The Milners tried to befriend him again, and secured for him the appointment as post-surgeon on the coast of Coro- mandel. This was revoked, however ; a second attempt to practise medicine proved unprofitable ; he failed to pass an examination for a subordinate hospital position at the College of Surgeons, and was still in most abject poverty. Yet he was continually giving money if he had it, or even the clothes from his back and the cover- ings from his bed, to those who begged of him. His writings were of whatever sort would bring him money, and he had as yet produced nothing to bring him into prominence. In 1759 he published anonymously " An Enquir}^ into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe," which he had long been meditating, and in 1760 his " Chinese Letters " appeared. The money from these enabled BIOGUAPHICAL SKETCH. T Goldsmith to change his wretched garret for better quarters ; and, what was more, he now drew to himself valuable friends, the chief among whom was the eccen- tric intellectual giant, Samuel Johnson, afterwards Dr. Johnson, who was an autocrat among his literary com- panions, and had himself known the most grinding pov- erty. Goldsmith's circumstances were indeed better, but his habits still kept him in want ; and Dr. Johnson told of receiving a message from him saying that he was in great distress, and begging a visit as he could not come to his friend. Dr. Johnson sent a guinea, and followed as quickly as possible to find Goldsmith under arrest in his room for arrears of rent. A fi-esh bottle of Madeira wine on the table showed how a portion of the guinea had already been used. Johnson promptly corked the bottle and calmed his excited friend. Upon being in- formed by Goldsmith that he had an unpublished manu- script by him, he at once examined it and saw its merit. He immediately sold this for £60, with which the rent was discharged, the landlady receiving an indignant lec- ture as well as her money. This manuscript was the copy of the '' Vicar of Wakefield," published two years after. So much of our remembrance of Goldsmith is associ- ated with the immortal " Club " that special mention must be made of this. It was formed in 1764, and con- sisted of nine members who were to sup together once a week at the Turk's Head. Some of the leading ones besides our poet were Johnson, already mentioned, oshua Reynolds, the eminent painter, Burke, the future 8 OLIVER CWLDSMITH. orator, and Beauclerc, a polished aristocrat, whose ap pearance contrasted oddly with that of some others, but who had a line literary taste and admired Johnson. To these were afterwards added Garrick, the actor, and Bos- well, the son of a Scotch laird, who worshipped the great Johnson, sticking to him, as Goldsmith said, like a " burr," to treasure up his sayings in his memory or his note-book, and who has perpetuated the remembrance of his eminent friend and made his own otherwise insignif- icant name live by leaving the most complete biography ever issued. We gain much knowledge of Goldsmith from these pages, always making due allowance for the narrow-mindedness and jealousy of Boswell, who could not appreciate the poet as did the great man whom he followed. This year, 1764, was the most important one in all Goldsmith's literary career. He had hitherto left all his writings without signature, but he now brought out the '' Traveller " under his own name. The effect of this great poem on the public was immediate, bringing its author to the notice of those who had not known him, and totally changing the estimation of him in the minds of those who had. His club-mates were astounded. They had recognized ability in the man, in spite of his clumsiness in conversation, but now realized that he pos- sessed genius, and that of the highest order. AVithin a year Goldsmith was called the best poet of his age. Dr. Johnson pronounced the " Traveller " the best effort in verse since the days of Pope ; while the finest compli- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 9 ment of all came from Miss Reynolds, the sister of the painter, who said, " Well, I never more shall think Dr. Goldsmith ugly ! " With all this success and the attendant social advan- tages that came with it. Goldsmith felt that he was rising in the world, and revived some of his earlier papers in a collection called " Essays by Mr. Gold- smith." He also changed lodgings again and lived with more pretension, but was still, as ever, often in want. No income could have kept pace with the way in which his generous and heedless nature would have led him to use it. He always gambled more or less, as was the fashion, and was rarely successful ; but the sweeping charges of Macaulay and others on this point cannot be sustained. His disregard of expense, and habit of giving at every appeal of real or pretented distress, especially to needy countrymen of his own who flocked to him, were enough to account for the financial embarrassment which followed him, even when he came to earn perhaps £400 yearly, a large sum in those days. In 1765, when pressed for funds, he wrote, among others, the famous nursery tale of " Goody Two Shoes," which in its own field has enjoyed as much popularity as any of his Avritings. He never yet had regarded himself as permanently given up to writing ; and now his increased acquaintance tempted him to the practice of medicine once more, this time in a grand way with all the gayly-colored finery of the period, but this was given up in disgust upon find- 10 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. iiig that the apothecary knew more about prescribing for a case than he did. As is so often the case, the world had settled the question of an occupation, and he never again attempted to be anything but an author. The fame of the ''Traveller" caused the "Vicar of AVakefield " to be issued after lying in the publisher's hands for two years. This added still more to his repu- tation, and he was now a distinguished man. Enemies had arisen, to be sure ; but his social opportunities were of the best, although his natural awkwardness, never wholly to be overcome except in his wa-itings, and his crude earlier life, placed him at a disadvantage. He now turned his attention to another style of writ- ing ; and his comedy, '^ The Good-ISTatured Man," was produced in 1768. Its reception was disappointing in many ways. It was a sentimental age, and true comedy was not appreciated ; but there w^as a compensation in the fact that the total profit was £500, while the " Traveller," with all its fame, brought but twenty. In a characteristic way. Goldsmith at once used the most of this money in fitting up luxurious apartments, and was really worse off than ever, as the scale of living he adopted, in the hope of continuing to earn at this rate, kept him plunged in debt for the remainder of his life. He was now saddened by the death of his brother Henry, a careful scholar and exemplary man, who, after his university career, had abandoned thoughts of fame to settle down at Lissoy as pastor, and teacher of the BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 11 village school, " passing rich at forty pounds a year." Oliver loved this brother with all the warmth of his heart; and when there had been an opportunity for patronage from the Duke of Northumberland, he had thrown away his own chances, sturdily disclaiming all need for himself, but mentioning his brother, and by his natural bungling and diffidence securing nothing for either. We now come to an episode in Goldsmith's life which affords the tenderest memories, and has especially ap- pealed to Irving and Thackeray, who of all writers upon this poet are from the gentleness of their own natures the most truly appreciative. This is his acquaintance with the '^ Jessamy Bride," a pet name applied to Miss Mary Horneck, the younger of two beautiful daughters of Mrs. Horneck of Devonshire. Goldsmith met this fine family through his friend Reynolds, and formed one of the pleasantest friendships of all his restless life. He had at last met people of culture and position who could understand him rightly. Goldsmith never openly paid addresses to this lady ; but Irving suspects that the heavy tailor's charges on record for gaudy costumes arose from a realization of his own uncouthness, and a desire to make himself attractive in the eyes of one he adored. There is something very touching in the thought of a hopeless devotion, such as may have existed here ; and we well may think that had Goldsmith, with his fine appreciation of home-life, always dear to him and always denied, been able to win the love of such a 12 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. woman, Ave might now write of a longer and very dif- ferent life. It is pleasing to know that years after, the ^^ Jessamy Bride," an aged but still charming woman, the widow of a distinguished general, paid a feeling tribute to the memory of her friend. In 1768 the Royal Academy of Arts was instituted under the patronage of the king and the supervision of forty leading artists. Reynolds was its president, and received the honor of knighthood, to the great delight of the Club ; and the next year Johnson received from this Academy the honorary title of Professor of Ancient Literature, and Goldsmith that of Professor of Ancient History. No salary went with this, and the recipient himself wrote to his brother Maurice that such honors were to one in his situation " something like ruffles to one wanting a shirt ; " but it was a high mark of distinc- tion, the greatest of his life. In 1770 the "Deserted Village" appeared, bringing him one hundred guineas and additional reputation. He had now become more at ease in polite society, and we soon find him indulging in an excursion to Paris with the Hornecks, a journey which must have seemed very different from his first vagrant ramblings in France. In 1773 he scored a triumphal success with his comedy, '' She Stoops to Conquer ; " and we should be glad to think of him as thoroughly happy with all these laurels, but we are forced to notice another side. After his re- turn from France, he had sought retirement at a farm- BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 13 house to catch up with the work, now fast getting beyond him, an all the more hopeless task because he was now often paid in advance, and the money would be spent as soon as he received it. His devotion to work here impaired his health, his pecuniary embarrass- ments increased, and there were never wanting envious and ill-natured critics, and those who would mortify his vanity by practical jokes at the expense of his personal appearance. As a relief from all these annoyances, he indulged in social excesses upon his return to town, with the result of further enfeebling himself. The end was coming. He now wished to repair his fortunes by a more elab- orate work than any he had yet attempted. His dream was of a dictionary of arts and sciences, for which Dr. Johnson would write on ethics, Burke on politics, Rey- nolds on painting, Garrick on acting, and others of note on other subjects, while Goldsmith would be editor. It was a promising undertaking if carried out, but the booksellers shrank from it. It would occupy several volumes, and they distrusted both the profit, and the- prospect of completion. Then, again, work for which they had already paid would be laid aside for it. Disap- pointed and no longer as capable as formerly, Goldsmith settled down to forced work which was remorselessly driving him, and which was more irksome than ever. One more awakening of his former brilliancy remains in his unfinished poem, " Retaliation," inspired by mock epitax)hs written for him by his companions, one of 14 OLIVEn GOLDSMITH. which by Garrick was especially apt, and therefore stinging : — " Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Xoll, Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll." Garrick received one in return that fully repaid him, while the poet's finest effort was saved for Reynolds, for whom he had only kindness : — " Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind. His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering. When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing; When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trmnpet, and only took snuff. By flattery unspoiled " Goldsmith's work ended here, and worthily, with this unfinished line. He sank in a fever, and died April 4, 1774. Burke burst into tears on hearing the news, Eeynolds could work no more' that day, and the con- temptuous amusement with which the poor fellow's social efforts had often been regarded was lost sight of in the general grief. His financial condition (he was said to be £2,000 in debt) prevented his having a public funeral, but the Club not long after placed a medallion with his likeness in Westminster Abbey, beneath w^hich was inscribed a noble epitaph in Latin by Dr. Johnson. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. It As a scholar, Goldsmith was superficial and careless as a man, we have seen him noble-hearted, but weak and erring: but as a literary artist, he remains in the front rank for his purity of thought, beauty of expression, and power to charm. In discussing his varied life, we must not make the mistake of supposing that Goldsmith stands alone. The Bohemian existence that he led was common among literary workers, and the fact that Goldsmith is often singled out as a type of irregular life among writers simply results from his being better known to us than most others of his time. We can in no wise hold his life up for imitation, while, on the other hand, there is no call to offer apologies for his errors. With his simplicity and native goodness, which no accusations on the part of those who charge him with envy can refute, his failings are more those of the child, which we regard the more kindly for its evi- dent inability to care for itself, than those of a culprit whom we would censure. Let Goldsmith stand before us as he was, w4th no more excuse than his own frank nature would have sought. Irving is to be commended, who would correct Dr. Johnson's counsel : "Let not his faults be remembered, he was a very great man," by saying with a truer grasp of human nature, " Let them be remembered, since their tendency is to endear." LITERARY PRODUCTIONS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH. "An Inquiry into the Present State of Polite Learn- ing IN Europe" (1759). His first work of importance, and published anonymously. It was severely treated by critics, and is generally considered to liave little merit; but at the time it sold profitably on account of the novelty of the undertaking, and its wide range. "The Bi:E" (1759). A weekly publication, of which only eight numbers were issued. "Sketches from London" (17G0). Usually spoken of as the " Chinese Letters," being a series of letters, more than a hundred in number, appearing in the Public Ledger, and purport- ing to l)e written by a Chinese visitor to London. A mysterious "Man in Black," who gives information to the visitor is some- times identified with Goldsmith, and sometimes with his father, but is probably not definitely intended for either. It was Gold- smith's habit to draw characters from his own knowledge rather than from imagination, and in this way family likenesses often appear. These letters were collected next year under the title of the "Citizen of the World." Their shrewd, yet pleasant, satire upon the follies and evils of society commanded attention, and subsequent years have proven tlie wisdom of many of his observa- tions and protests, which were imappreciated at the time. "History of England" (1763). In the form of a series of letters from a nobleman to his son. A compilation of existing 16 LITER An Y PRODUCTIONS. 17 histories, rewritten in a pleasing way. Superficial and often in- correct, but so graceful that the letters were at first thought to be tliose of Lord Chesterfield. It was even spoken of as' "the most finished and elegant summary of English history that liad ever been, or was likely to be, written," "The Traveller, or a Prospect op" Society" (17G4). See introduction to this poem, p. 20. • "Essays by Mr. Goldsmith " (1705). A collection of earlier anonymous papers made up from various periodicals. "The Hermit, or Edwin and Angelina" (1765). A shorter poem of great power and beauty published imder the patronage of the Countess of Northumberland, thus having an Introduction to the world which was of great advantage to (iold- smith. It was afterwards printed in the " Vicar of Wakefield." It has been called " the most finished of modern ballads." "The Vicar of Wakefield" (1766), A tale of domestic life in which the credulous simplicity of the good Vicar and his family, together with a childish vanity and capacity for enjoying the present, regardless of past or future, reflect many traits of the Goldsmitli family. It is a story of sustained sweetness of character under misfortunes the most crushing tliat can come upon a man ; all eventually followed by happiness. The plot is strained and unnatural, and the incidents improbable; but it is so beautifully expressed with its simple grace and bright flashes of humor, especially in the earlier part before the clouds thicken, that it has remained one of the gems of literature. As a tale of submission in adversity with ultimate reward, it may be said to be second only to the Book of Job, Its success was im- mediate, and it has been greatly used and admired in France and Germany as an English text-book. "The Good-N"atured Man" (1768). A comedy illustrating many of Goldsmith's own traits. Produced at Covent Garden with indifferent success in some respects, but a total profit of £500. 18 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. "History of the Eaijth axd Animated Nature" (be- gun in 1769). This was to be a work on natural history, pro- duced for Griffin, the bookseller, in eight volumes of 400 pages each. A hundred guineas Avere to be paid for the delivery of each volume in manuscript. The series was never completed. This work is interesting, but less valuable than liis other writings. Facts are confused with the impossible stories of travellers, Gold- smith's credulity and lack of accurate knowledge, making him an easy dupe. At the same time, it tells in a delightful way many a pleasing thing of his own observation. "History of Rome" (1769). Designed for students' use, anil not the result of original research, but drawn from ponder- ous books whose contents were compiled, condensed, and re- written in his own easy style, and thus made available for the young. In this way great service was done. Though suffering more or less from the author's carelessness and lack of thorough information, tlie book had so many good points that, like his " History of England," it long continued to be a standard. "The Deserted Village" (1770). See introduction to this poem, p. 41. "History of England" (1771). Largely a reproduction of his former one. It was well received, some critics declaring that English history had never before been " so usefully, so elegantly, and so agreeably ei^itomized." "She Stoops to Conquer, or The Mistakes of a Xight " (1773). A comedy based on blunders of Goldsmith's own. Its production at Covent Garden was, after a long delay, secured by the aid of Dr. Johnson, to whom the author affectionately dedicated the play when put to press. It proved very successful, bringing £800, and has lived. "History of Greece" (1774). Prepared in the same way as his other histories. " Retaliation " (1774), An unfinished poem, said to be his last work. See Biographical Sketch. dL. LITER ABY PRODUCTIONS. 19 "A Survey of Experimental Philosophy" (1776). A forced work under the pressure of debt, and needing no comment. As Goldsmith published nothing after 1773, the authorshij) of this is given on the authority of the publishers. Besides these he left many lives of various persons, introduc- tions to books, translations, poems, and miscellaneous articles, as he was a very prolific writer. These were mostly " hack-work, ' done to procure the means of living, or of satisfying his creditors, and need no special reviewing here. His poems were first brought out in London in two volumes, in 1780. Plis miscellaneous works were brought out in four volumes, in 1801, edited by S. Rose, with a memoir by Bishop Percy. INTRODLiCTION TO '^THE TEAYELLEE. This poem may have in. a measure been suggested by Addison's " Letters from Italy ; " and the writer may have been influenced by a remark of the poet Thomson in a letter to a friend that " a poetical landscape of countries, mixed with moral observations on their char- acters and people, would not be an ill-judged undertak- ing." However this may be, the poem is peculiarly Goldsmith's own — the expression of his most sincere feelings and his personal observations; and its j)repara- tion is identified with the author's life. The work was planned and partly composed during the author's wandering tour on the Continent, 1754-1756 ; and a portion of it was sent in a crude form from Swit- zerland to his brother Henry. It was published in 17(34, and was the first work to which Goldsmith placed his name. The plan of the poem is grand : An English wanderer seated among the peaks of the Alps looks down upon the various countries spread out before him, recalls his travels, and meditates upon the distinctive features of the lands he has examined. Ko one offers the complete happiness he seeks, and ho comes to the conclusion that 20 INTRODUCTION TO ''THE TRAVELLER:' 21 each man's feelings depend mainly npon himself, and that contentment, or its opposite, must find its causes within us, and is beyond the reach of government. While we may find it hard to accept the reasoning that opportunities for happiness are everywhere the same, we can all recognize that it is a man's privilege to be master of his mind. ¥ew poems have been so carefully written. It is said that the poet's spare moments during the two years pre- vious to its publication were spent in patiently revising and retouching these lines, until the whole stands as a model of skill and taste. It is a didactic poem in which the versifier accompa- nies the moralist at every step without ever losing the grace and beauty of his own especial province. TO THE KEY. HENEY GOLDSMITH. Dear Sir, — I am sensible that the friendship between us can acquire no new force from the ceremonies of a dedica- tion ; and perhaps it demands an excuse thus to prefix your name to my attempts, which you decline giving with your own. But as a part of this poem was for- merly written to you from Switzerland, the whole can now with propriety be inscribed only to you. It will also throw a light upon numy parts of it, when the reader understands that it is addressed to a man who, despising fame and fortune, has retired early to happi- ness and obscurity, w^th an income of forty pounds a year. 1 now perceive, my dear brother, the wisdom of your humble choice. You have entered upon a sacred office, where the harvest is great and the laborers are but few; while you have left the field of ambition, where the laborers are many and the harvest not worth carrying away. But of all kinds of ambition — what from the refinement of the times, from differing systems of criti- cism, and from the divisions of party — that which pursues poetical fame is the wildest. 22 DEDICATION TO ''THE TRAVELLERS 23 Poetry makes a principal amusement among unpol- ished nations ; but in a country verging to the extremes of refinement, painting and music come in for a share. As these offer the feeble mind a less laborious entertain- ment, they at first rival poetry, and at length supplant her: they engross all that favor once shown to her; and though but younger sisters, seize upon the elder's birth- right. Yet, however this art may be neglected by the power- ful, it is still in greater danger from the mistaken efforts of the learned to improve it. What criticisms have we not heard of late in favor of blank verse and Pindaric odes, choruses, anapests, and iambics, alliterative care and happy negligence ! Every absurdity has now a champion to defend it ; and as he is generally much in the wrong, so he has always much to say — for error is ever talkative. But there is an enemy to this art still more danger- ous ; I mean party. Party entirely distorts the judgment, and destroys the taste. When the mind is once infected with this disease, it can only find pleasure in what con- tributes to increase the distemper. Like the tiger, that seldom desists from pursuing man after having once preyed upon human flesh, the reader who has once grati- fied his appetite with calumny makes ever after the most agreeable feast upon murdered reputation. Such readers generally admire some half-witted thing who wants to be thought a bold man, having lost the charac- ter of a wise one. Him they dignify with the name of 24 OLIVER GOLDSMiril. poet : his tawdry lampoons are called satires ; his tur- bulence is said to be force, and his frenzy, tire. What reception a poem may find which has neither abuse, party, nor blank verse to support it I cannot tell ; nor am I solicitous to know. My aims are right. With- out espousing the cause of any part;y , I have attempted to moderate the rage of all. I have endeavoured to show that there may be equal happiness in states that are differently governed from our own; that every stale has a particular principle of happiness ; and that this principle in each may be carried to a mischievous excess. There are few can judge better than yourself how far these positions are illustrated in this poem. I am, DEAR SIR, Your most affectionate brother, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. THE TRAVELLER OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY. Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po ; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor Against the houseless stranger shuts the door ; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, ^ A weary waste expanding to the skies ; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see. My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 10 Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend ! Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire : Blest that abode, where want and pain repair, 15 And every stranger finds a ready chair : Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crowned. Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ; --218. The village master. 21f»-236. The village inn. 237-250. Regret for the village life that is gone. 251-264. A preference expressed for rural pleasures over those of fashionable society. 26.'')-286. An appeal to statesmen against the appropriation of homes to make pleasure-grounds for the wealthy. 72 NOTES ON THE. DESERTED VILLAGE. 73 303-336. The hopeless efforts of outcast poverty to find a i)lace for itself. 337-3()2, The fortunes of Auburn's exiled inhabitants. 363-384. The sadness of expulsion from home. 385-39-1. A reproach against luxury, 395-430. The displacement by luxury of the rural virtues, and with theni the Genius of Poetry. To her the poet appeals that she teach erring men the truth through all time. Page 47, Line 2. S^vain. A favorite word among eighteenth- century poets. Originally meaning a servant, it came to be used for a young man in the country, — a husbandman, as here, — a shex)herd ; 9,ud, from the pastoral sentiment of the times, a lover. P. 47, 1.4. Parting. Departing. Cf. line 1 of Gray's "Elegy : "— " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day." P. 47, 1. 5. Bowers. Poetically used for dwellings. P. 47, 1. 13. The hawthorn bush. A large hawthorn (hedge- thorn) bush in Lissoy was carried away piecemeal by relic-hunters. P. 47, 1. 14. Talking age. " And narrative old age." — Pope. P. 47, 1. 15. The coming day. Some saint's day, which would be a festal occasion, celebrated on the village green. P. 47, 1. 17. Train. Often used by Goldsmith, and occurring some ten times in this poem ; coming from the Latin traho, to draw, it means here a long-drawn line. P. 47, 1. 21. Gambol. A general joining in play. P. 48, 1. 35. Lawn. Equivalent to '• plain " in line 1. P. 48, 1. 39. Only. Perhaps the hardest word in our language to use properly. Here, as an adjective, it is given an especial force by its jiosition. Cf. : — " Now is it Rome indeed, and room enongh. When there is in it but one only man." Julius Ccesar, Act I. Scene ii. P. 48, 1. 42. Works its weedy \^^ay. A noticeable instance of the alliteration often used by Goldsmith and other poets of his time. Cf. lines 53, 74, 82, 93, 102, 123, 214, and 281 as examples. As a strik- ing illustration which this line suggests, notice the following from Boker's " Ivory Carver ; " — 74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. " Silently sat the artist alone, Carving a Christ from the ivory bone. Little by little, with toil and pain, He won his way through the sightless grain, That held and yet hid the tiling he sought, Till the work stood up, a growing thought." P. 48, 1. 44. The holloAV-soiinding bittern, etc. A species ot heron, locally known in this country as "stake-driver," from ilie sound of its cry. Goldsmith, in his "Animated Nature," observes that there is "no note so dismally hollow as the booming of the bittern." The name is used in the Scriptures with melancholy sug- gest! ven ess: — " I will also make it a possessioa for the bittern, and pools of water." Isa. xiv. 23. " But the cormorant and the bittern shall possess it ; the owl also and the raven shall dwell in it." — Ibid, xxxiv. 11. P. 48, 1. 51. Ill fares the land, etc. Almost the only line of Goldsmith's that has been criticised as inartistic ; exception being taken to the repetition of sound in " ill " and " ills." P. 48, 1. 52. Decay. Lessen in number. P. 49, 1.55. A breath, etc. Cf . : — " Princes and lords are but the breath ofkings." — Burns. P. 49, 1. Gf). AVealth . . . pomp. Goldsmith is much addicted to this form of personification, often using a quality, condition, or occupation for tliose whom it represents. P. 49, 1. 70. Manners. Customs. An evident choice of words for the sake of alliteration. P. 49, 1. 75. Su'eet Auburn, etc. An example of apostrophe. P. 50, 11. 87, 88. These lines form an excellent metaphor. P. 50, 1. 93. As an hare, etc. Goldsmith, with good taste, re- frains from overloading his lines with figures of speech, and when introduced they are exceedingly effective, like the simile h.ere. For the use of " an " before the aspirated h, Cf. " The Traveller," line 34. P. 50, 1. 107. His latter end. Extreme old age. Cf. the biblical use : — "Hear counsel, and receive instruction, that thou mayest be wise in thy latter end." — Prov. xix. 20. NOTES ON THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 75 P. 51, 1. 110. While resignation, etc. Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom this poem was dedicated, appreciated the fine tribute, and soon painted his picture of " Resignation," inscribed, " This attempt to ex- press a character in ' The Deserted Village ' (lines 109-112) is dedicated to Dr. Goldsmith by his sincere friend and admirer, Joshua Rey- nolds." P. 51, 1. 121. Bayed. Barked at. " I had ratlier be a dog, and bay the moon, Than sucli a Roman." — JaUus C'cesar, Act IV., Scene iii. P. 51, 1. 121. The ^vhispe^ing ^viud. Wind is regularly to be pronounced wind in poetry. P. 51, 1. 122. The loud laugh, etc. Mr. Swinton makes a good point here by observing that this does not mean that every loud laugh betokens an empty mind. P. 51, 1. 124. The nightingale. Those whose delight it is to pick flaws in greatness say here that the nightingale is not found in Ire- land. This is true ; but, as said before, it was perfectly natural for the poet to mingle his surroundings, while writing the j)oem, with his recollections of childhood. P. 51, 1. 129. Yon widowed, solitary thing. The general ab- sence of life in the village is made far more impressive by a special instance of its presence in a forlorn condition, as a feeble sound emphasizes a profound silence. Pp. 51-53, 11. 137-192. The sketch of the village preacher seems to be drawn from the poet's father, and his brother, Henry Goldsmith, combined. The literary idea may come from the parish j)riest of Dryden, who, in turn, improved the character from Chaucer. P. 51, 1. 137. Copse, A field of brushwood which is cut for fuel. French couper, to cut. P. 51, 1. 138. Still. Adverbial modifier of " grows." Placed where it is on account of the metre. P. 52, 1. 142. Passing. Surpassingly. Exceedingly. P. 52, 1. 155. Broken. Broken down. P. 52, 1. 159. Glow. Become animated, with face flushed with interest. P. 52, 1. 1(37. And as a bird, etc. This beautiful simile is be- lieved to be strictly original, having thus an advantage over the loftier one in lines 189-192. Tlie thought may come from Deut. xxxii. 11, 12 ; but there is no parallel to it in poetic literature. 76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. P. 53, 1. 173. Champion. One wlio combats singly for himself or another. Here, the defender of the departing soul against the powers of evil. From the Latin campus, a field, hence a place for contests. P. 53, 1. 181. The service past = When the service was finished. Xominative absolute. P. 53, 1. 189. As some tall clifF, etc. Xo sublimer simile is to be found, and this should never leave the mind of the reader. It is probably adapted from the following passage from Young's " Night Thoughts," but gains greatly upon it: — " As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, Detains the sun, illustrious from its heiglit, "White rising vapors and descending shades, With damps and darkness drown the spacious val«. Philander thus augustly rears his liead." Pp. 53, 54, 11. 193-216. The character of the village school- master recalls Goldsmith's old teacher, Tliomas, commonly called " Paddy " Byrne, a veteran whose tales seem to have suggested the " broken soldier " of the previous description. P. 53, 1. 194. Furze. An evergreen shrub, often called gorse. P. 53, 1. 195. Skilled to rule. A trace of Latin infinitive con- struction. Cf. line 145. P. 54, 1. 209. Terms and tides presage. Foretell seasons, and times of high and low water. P. 54, 1. 210. Gauge. Estimate the capacity of casks from their dimensions. P. 54, 1. 219. Thorn. Thorn-tree. P. 54, 1. 221. That house. The village inn. P. 55, 1. 232. Tlie t^velve good rules. These were attributed to Charles I., and were commonly hung in public-houses. They were: 1. Urge no liealths [the drinking of "healths" to each other]. 2. Profane no divine ordinances. 3. Touch no state matters. 4. Reveal no secrets. 5. Pick no quarrels. 0. INIake no comparisons. 7. Main- tain no ill opinions. 8. Keep no bad company. 9. Encourage no vice. 10. Make no long meals. 11. Repeat no grievances. 12. Lay no wagers. P. 55, 1. 232. The royal game of goose. A fox-and-geese board. P. 55, 1. 2.'U. Fennel. An aromatic garden plant. P. 55, 1. 244. The Woodman's ballad. Some song of Robin Hood, the hero of forestry. NOTES ON THE UESEETEl) VILLAGE. 77 P. 55, 1. 248. The mantling bliss. Hajipiness that included or infolded all. Used by metonymy for the ale wliicli was the cause. P. 55, 1. 250. Shall kiss the cup, etc. Cf. the song: — *' Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will jiledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine." To Celia. — Ben Joxson. P. 56, 1. 258. Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined. The prefix uii- has elsewhere been effectively used in poetry. Cf. : — "Unwept, unhonored, and unsung." — SooTT. " Unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown." — Byron. P. 56, 1. 264. The heart distrusting asks if this be joy. One of the most powerful lines in the poem, or in our language. P. 56, 1. 278. Equipage. Carriages and attendants. Fr. e'quiper, to attire. P. 57, 1. 284. For. In exchange for. P. 57, 1. 287. Plain. Not meaning devoid of beauty, which would be a contradiction, but simple and modest. P. 57, 1. 293. Solicitous to bless. By giving her hand in mar- riage, P. 57, 1. 298. Vistas. Extended prospects. Especially applied to views through avenues of trees. P. 58, 1. 316. Artist. In the sense of artisan, or workman. P. 58, 1. 317. Pomps. Here meaning processions. From the Greek pempo, to send. P. 58, 1. 319. Dome. Here used by synecdoche for the entire palace. P. 58, 1. 322. The torches glare. Before the lighting of streets, people of fashion were attended in the streets at night by torch-bear- ers or link-boys. P. 58, 1. .330. Sweet as the prinnrose peeps beneath the thorn. So good a judge as William Black declares that the sentiment which a poetic imagination can infuse into surrounding objects never re- ceived happier expression than in this line. It truly represents that mysterious something in a combination of words which we call poetry. 78 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. P. 59, ]. 344. The wild Altama. The Altamaha, one of tlie boundaries of Georgia. This colonj- was settled in 1732 bj' General Oglethorpe, whom Goldsmith knew. P. 59, 1. 355. Crouching tigers. Goldsmith's ideas of American natural liistory were somewhat mixed. By "tiger," he is here sup- posed to mean the jaguar, which does not make it much better, as thig is a South American animal. It is possible that he may have heard of the panther. Pp. 59, 60, 11. 363-384. The pathos of emigration has, perhaps^ never been so effectively set forth as in these lines. P. 60, 1. 368. Seats. Sites, abodes. P. 60, 1. 392. A bloated mass, etc. Cf. his discussion of Italy, " The Traveller," line 144. P. 61, 1. 400. Flaps. One of the class of onomatopoetic, or sound- imitative words. From their nature thej- are often effective in poetry, since they call up an image to the mind, as here. Other examples of such words in this poem are "gabbled," "plashy," "clock," " mur- mur," etc. P. 61, 1. 411. Dear charming nymph. Still referring to poetry personified. Tlie nymphs were female divinities of lesser rank than the commonly-known goddesses. P. 61, 1. 413. Thou source, etc. Wither's lines to liis muse, in his poem of " The Shepherd's Hunting," are often quoted in com- parison with this : — " And though for her sake I'm crost, Though mj- best hopes I have lost," etc. P. 61, 1. 418. Torno's Cliffs, or Pambamarca's side. The river Tornea flows through a mountainous region in Sweden, and Pambamarca is a peak of the Andes in Ecuador. Thus the wish is expressed that the influence of poetry may be world-wide. P. 61, 1. 419. Equinoctial. Equatorial. . Pp. 61, 62, 11. 427-430. These lines were added by Dr. John.soii, who was nothing if not profound, and who thought the poem ended too tamely. His heavy lines do not well accord with the graceful flow of Goldsmith's verse, and we can but wish, as in " The Traveller," that he had saved his ponderous assistance until it was more needed. The final thought, as the author would have left it, was the natural conclusion of a poem whose surpassing sweetness has rendered its popularity independent of all changes in literary style. THOMAS GRAY. (1716-1771.) BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. Thomas Gray, one of the most refined and scholarly of English poets, was born in London, the son of a broker who was quite the opposite of his distinguished son in temperament and tastes. An excellent mother helped the gentle and studious youth to an education at Eton School followed by Cambridge University. He found the study of law dry and severe, and gladly went as companion to Horace Walpole, son of the Prime Minister of England, for a trip on the Continent. Walpole was as gay as his friend was serious and scholarly, and they naturally had to part company. Gray returned to Cambridge, never again to leave it, except for visits to Scotland, Wales, and the Lakes of Westmoreland, and three years which he spent in London in order to use the British Museum more freely. He seems to have passed his life in absorb- ing knowledge from the pure love of it, and was extremely sensitive and retiring, though with a great capacity for warm friendship with choice and congenial spirits. The great critic, Taine, with the vivacious disdain which he, with his Erench birth, felt for a generally unsocial per- 79 80 THOMAS GRAY. son, is hardly fair in curtly passing over Gray as " the morose hermit of Cambridge." He declined the Poet- Laureateship in 1757, but tried unsuccessfully for the professorship of Modern History at Cambridge, in 1762. Six years later this position was given to him, and its income of £400 a year was enjoyed for the rest of his life, though he seems to have done but little teaching, and did not live to deliver the course of lectures he was care- fully preparing. His life was more singularly unevent- ful than that of any other important Englishman of letters. Gray is one of the finest possible examples of how little in point of space it takes to win enduring fame in letters, provided something of real genius is given to the world. He w^'ote three or four excellent odes which still interest the scholarly, and one of which, " A Distant Prospect of Eton College," established his fame as a poet ; some poems in imitation of the verse of the classic age which add nothing to his fame except respect for his scholar- ship; some letters which remain as examples of good taste in thought and expression, but can never be well known; and the '-Elegy," the 132 lines of which have been sufficient to immortalize him. Lord Byron said : " Had Gray written nothing but his Elegy, high as he stands, I am not sure that he would not stand higher ; it is the corner-stone of his glory. . . . Gray's ' Elegy ' pleased instantly and eternally." This poem was prepared with the greatest care, having been begun in 1742, revised from time to time, and not published until 1751. It is BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 81 said to have been mainly composed in the grounds of the church at Granchester, about two miles from Cambridge, and for the great bell of St. Mary's is claimed the honor of having been the " curfew." Matthew Arnold accounts for Gray's having written so little by saying that he, " a born poet, fell upon an age of prose." In other words he was out of touch with his time and was not inspired to write as freely as he might have done in an age more given to poetic fancy and offering more numerous and appreciative lovers of verse than he found. But he surely had no reason to be dis- satisfied with the reception of the ''Elegy," which all agree to have been immediate, enthusiastic, and wide- spread. It went through four editions in two months, and eleven in less than two years. It seems rather that Gray was an exceptional individual in very many ways, whose finely-grained nature would have found much to grate upon it in any age, and whose claim to great re- nown is a gem crystallized from years of rapt thought. It is very probable that he could not have repeated this success under any circumstances, and quite unnecessary that he should have done so. The "Elegy" makes his fame secure. ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. Thp: curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 5 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight. And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain 10 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf o'er many a mold'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 15 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 20 82 ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHUECHYARD. 83 For them no more the blazing hearth shall buriij Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 25 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team a-field ! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil. Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; 30 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour : — 35 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor yon, ye proud, impute to these the fault. If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 40 Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust. Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death ? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 45 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; 84: THOMAS GRAY. Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Kich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll : 50 Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of their soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 55 And w^aste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, who with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood. Some mute inglorious Milton, here may rest — Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 60 Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes. Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 65 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And, shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide. To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 85 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life 75 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80 Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 85 This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned. Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind ? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 90 E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries ; E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonored dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, " Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, 86 THOMAS GRAY. Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 100 '' There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. " Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 105 Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove ; Xow drooping, woful, wan, like one folorn. Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. " One morn I missed him from the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree. 110 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. " The next, w^ith dirges due, in sad array. Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne, — Approach and read, for thou canst read, the lay 115 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn. " There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground." 120 ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 87 The Epitaph. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth, A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown : Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; 125 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : He gave to Misery (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. No further seek his merits to disclose. Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 130 (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. NOTES ON ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. Structure of the Poem. — This poem is in elegiac stanza, so called from its use in elegies or poems of mourning for tlie dead, or at least of plaintive nature. It is in iambic pentameter, for discussion of which see page ()5, arranged in quatrains, or four-line stanzas, with alternate rhymes. Accent is a natural law of speech for dividing it into convenient and agreeable sections, and here we have an accented syllable at the end of each of the five metrical feet in a line. Nearly every foot is an iambus, y^ _/., and by rule each line must close with one, so that its concluding syllable has cadence, or more or less falling inflection, with a slight stress of the voice. It is this regular succession of accented and unaccented syllables, never to be made so pronounced in reading as to give the unpleasant sing-song effect, that, independent of rhyme, distinguishes poetry from prose. This iambic movement gives a dignified effect, as of a chant, or procession, which well fits it for elegiac stanza, a form of verse pronounced by Dryden to be the most noble of which the English language is capable. This is only the opinion of one great writer, but all may see that it has much greater variety and stateliness than the rhymed couplet, for which see also page 65, in wliich the "Traveller" and the "Deserted Village" were written. The poem is scanned thus : — Can sto I ried urn || or an | i-ma | terl bust Back to I its man | sion call 1 the fleet | ing breath? Can Hon | or's voice || pro-voke | the si | lent dust. Or Flat I tevj soothe | the dull | cold ear | of Death ? As shown here, an apparently separate short syllable may in scanning have to be slurred, or passed lightly over in combination with the following one. 88 NOTES ON ELEGY. 89 Outline of the Poem Lines 1-12. Evening's coming described. 13-16. The Churchyard and its occupants. 17-24. The certainty that death ends earthly activity. 25-28. The vigor in life of those now in tlieir graves, recalled by way of contrast. 29-40. Death the common lot of high as well as low. 41-44. The futility of praise when life is gone. 45-76. Force of circumstances, and not necessarily lack of ability on the part of those lying in the churchyard, viewed as the cause of their failure to achieve prominence, and their claim to honor recognized. 77-84. The stones and epitaphs that mark the graves. 85-94. Human reluctance to depart from life. 95-120. The author turns in imagination to what may be remem- bered of him when he, too, shall have passed on. 121-i;)2. The fancied epitaph of the author, in which he char- acterizes his own temperament and life. All poetry worthy of our attention must be approached sympatheti- cally, as it is the product of intense feeling and imagination. To get the most from the "Elegy," call up the mental picture of what im- pressed the poet at the beginning of his verse — the growing darkness, the home-coming herds, the wearied laborer returning from his toil — and think of the added effect of the solemn evening bell. The close of day, the passing of a natural unit of conscious and active life, is con- ducive to sober reflection, and this poem, carefully memorized, will gain much in meaning and power by being repeated aloud in the still twilight. These notes are not in the least intended to enable one to dispense with the constant use of the dictionary, but only to aid in grasping the full meaning of a wonderfully thoughtful poem, and are but the begin- ning of what may be done along the same lines. They are suggested by experience, and where they are explicit, it is from a well-founded belief that many a faithful student of English suffers because the editors of his texts, in their laudable desire to encourage original re- search, are not sufficiently elementary with him. p. 82, 1. 10. P. 82, 1. 13. P. 82, 1. 13. P. 82, 1. U. P. 82, 1. l(i. in censure. P. 82, 1 . 16, 90 THOMAS GRAY. Page 82, Line 1. Curfew. A bell anciently rung in England at eight o'clock in the evening to warn people to put out their fires and go to bed. A Norman word, from the French covvre feu, " cover the fire," and a custom intended to protect people against the loss of their homes by burning. P. 82, 1. 4. The world. That part of the world which the poet has within view. An instance of the figure of speech called synecdoche. P. 82, 1. 8. Drowsy. Sleep-inspiring, from the monotony of sound. Moping. Of dull or stupid appearance. Rugged. Uneven in surface ; with rough trunks. That yew-tree's shade. " Beneath " is understood. Heaves. Rises, showing that a grave is there. Rude. Lacking the advantage of polish — not used Hamlet. " Home " with the diminutive suffix -let. A village, the little home, or cluster of homes, of those living there. P. 82, 1. 19. Echoing horn. BloAvn by huntsmen following hounds on horseback in the early morning. An allusion to the universal fond- ness of English country people for field sports. P. 83, 1. 22. Ply her evening care. Be busy with, the duties of a housewife preparing the evening meal for her husband returning from work. P. 83, 1. 23. Sire's. Father's. Derived from a French word mean- ing "master," and thus applied to the head of the family. P. 83, 1. 27. Jocund. Cheerily. An adjective used for an adverb. P. 83, 1. 27. A-field. To the field, in which they were to labor with the joy that the well and strong take in*heir work. P. 83, 1. 29. Let not, etc. Let not those who seek to be prominent despise those who patiently do the humble, necessary work of the world. P. 83, 1. 33. The boast of heraldry. Meaning those proud of descent from high families, distinguished by coats of arms and crests showing the renown of past generations, and of which the science was called heraldry, because the heralds or messengers of the great drew or emblazoned these designs and knew the meaning of the illustrious deeds they represented and the rank they indicated. P. 83, 1. 36. The paths of glory, etc. It is said that while wait- ing for daybreak on the night before his attack upon Quebec in Sep- tember, 1759, General Wolfe repeated the stanza of which this is the NOTES ON ELEGY, 91 concludiug liue, and remarked to his staff officers, "Gentlemen, I would rather have written those lines than to have the glory of beat- ing the French to-morrow." P. 83, 11. 37-40. Nor you, etc. Meaning: "Do not think less of them, you that are proud, if friends have not raised grand monuments to their memory in large and finely decorated cathedrals." P. 83, 1. 38. Trophies were originally the weapons taken from an enemy who had turned in flight (Lat. trepho, "turn"). Monuments were made of these weapons to celebrate victories, just as captured cannon have been used in modern times. P. 83, 1. 41. Urn. A receptacle for holding the ashes of the dead in times when cremation was usual. These urns would be inscribed with mention of one's rank and deeds, telling the story of his life, hence stoned urn. P. 83, 1. 41. Animated bust. Lifelike representation in marble of the head and shoulders of one held in memory. P. 83, 1. 43. Provoke. Arouse, with no sense of irritation, as understood by the present use of the word, but in the exact sense of its Latin origin, provoco, call forth. P. 83, 1. 46. Pregnant. Full of, and longing to give it forth to the world. P. 83, 1. 46. Celestial fire. The spirit of poetry, viewed as di- vine, or a gift from heaven. P. 84, 1. 47. Rod of empire. The king's sceptre. Originally a staff upon which an aged man might lean, as in the earliest or patri- archal system of government, the head of a tribe was at first the one from whom all were descended, and later, naturally aged before he would succeed to leadership by inheritance. P. 84, 1. 48. Ecstasy. A degree of delight which strikes one silent with enjoyment by absorbing the entire mind and attention. P. 84, 1. 48. Lyre. A kind of harp used in ancient times to accompany the chanting or reciting of poetry. The "living lyre" would be one thrilling its hearers by its lifelike tones, with the min- strel inspired to the exercise of his best powers by the excellence of the poetry. P. 84, 1. 49. Knowledge. The personification of what the men of all time have learned and recorded in books. P. 84, 1. 49. Their. Referring to " rude forefathers " in 1. 16. P. 84, 1. 50. Spoils of time. Wisdom and learning rescued from 92 THOMAS GBAY. time, the destroyer, by the art of writing, in the sense of " spoils of war," or things taken from an enemy. P. 84, 1. 50. Unroll. In the manner of using an ancient book made of a long strip of paper or parchment with a roller at each end, so that a succeeding page was opened to the reader by unrolling from the right-hand roller, while rolling up with left hand one closed the preceding page. P. 84, 1. 51. Chill penury. The cold, stern necessity of using their time and strength in toiling for daily bread. P. 84, 1. 51. Rage. Not meaning anger, but enthusiasm, which unrepressed or unchecked by circumstances might have caused their feelings to surge towards the accomplishment of some noble object, as the sea rages or swells. P. 84, 1. 52. Genial. Cheerful. The poet has in mind a frozen stream that would be a leaping, laughing brook had not its current been stopped by frost. P. 84, 1. 57. Hampden (John). Cousin to Oliver Cromwell and equally firm in his opposition to Charles I. He early became conspicu- ous in resisting the payment of a tax called " ship money," for which he was arrested and tried. He became a colonel in the war which led to the dethronement and execution of the king, but was mortallj' wounded in an engagement near Oxford in 1(343. P. 84, 1. 58. The little, etc. The thought is that perhaps this humble man might have shown just as bold a spirit against some small village oppression as Hampden did against a great and national one. P. 84, 1. 59. Mute inglorious 3Iilton. Some one who might have been an author worthy to be classed with Milton, had he had opportunity to develop. Not all will agree that great ability to write can be wholly suppressed by any conditions of life, but this need not lessen our admiration for the general ju.stice of these lines, which are in keeping with the finely democratic spirit of the whole poem. P. 84, 1. 60. Some CroniAvell. Some one who might have had Cromwell's ability as leader, but had no chance to show it, and so died without having caused bloodshed. P. 84, 1. 65. Their lot forbade. "Forbade" of course governs the four infinitive phrases in lines 61-64, each infinitive ("to com- mand," etc.) needing to have the pronoun " them " undei'Stood before it to complete the construction. The thought in lines 65-72 is that while the lot, or condition in life in which these humble village people hap- 93 NOTES ON ELEGY. penea to .e placed, »ay have ^^^^^f^^^^:^^^-^ beueflcial to t!,e world, and may *'« "^™ by perhaps beiug leaders Kept them from doing great -™4"^X°; onf the necessity of false- in Moody wars or --« /"'''^ f' ^reless in striving for unworthy hood and hecommg ^ ^'l^,^ ,„a literary attainments a so prominence. Their laoK ° insincere and flattering kept them from the te™Pta -» '^.^ „<„, t„ „e paid well for i words ahont the 1"=^""°"^^"* ,'"°"ially contemptible to Gray, and - something that 7°"''' 7" Xi,.stances in mind, of which he may have had spe'- "« Calculated to make one mad p 85 1 7S. Madding. Disturbing. '"rrrr^-Xhecontinuedcoin^.^.^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -- '-Ji gyer:n7:::^th7::o"h\ve ane monnments, r/a^Lrsal-ed hy -■»--""• Mnse." one of the nine P. 85, 1. 81. The "">f *«'f ,X';„t ,,ts and sciences, among goddesses supposed to look a tte diffeie. ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^1,„, thiol, were the various fom o 1°^^^^ ,, ,by™es, although r:- :::err irr:Slt:n^ educated to do s„ except in an awkward manner. ^^^^^^ sl,e has inspired to .rftet.:e tl ^iV ^^ '"-^'^ ^ ' "^ '^^ ^'- ^T85, 11. 85-88. rcwucetc. ^^j;:::^^t:z Jabo'ut to die without ^^;^'2^^t^ .oes'not shine and go below the surface of the eaitn, there is no daylight?" dutiful tears are ex- P. 8.5, 1. i». some P«"'« ^™P':„,f;y „atnral affection to the peeted to fall '^'>«^'^;^'^l^'L a«ec.ion though the object departing one, and A^no wm ot H is^n the^tomb^__ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ y,„3,,, gee " Outline," at "^'^tT^' KlndreTspirit. Some one with the same fondness for lonely meditation. _ meaning a farm-servant. p 81 1 97. Swam. A oaxon He!; usk to mean any dweller in the country. 94 THOMAS GRAY, > P. 86, 1. 104. Pore. Look steadily, as though lost in thought. P. 86, 1. 106. Wayward fancies. Thoughts conceived just as his own way or inclination led ; hence peculiar, and hard to be con- trolled by customs or views of others. P. 86, 1. 107. Wan. Past participle of the old verb loane, to diminish; hence, worn, tired out. P. 86, 1. 109. Customed. An unusual form of accustomed, made necessary by the metre of the jioem. P. 86, 1. 113. The next. Next morning. P. 86, 1. 113. Dirges due. AVith all the appropriate arrangements for the funeral. The word "dirge" comes from a funeral service in Latin, beginning, " Dirige, Domine, nos," "Direct (or guide) us, O Lord." P. 87, 1. 124. Melancholy. The personification of a gloomy frame of mind. . P. 87, 1. 125. Bounty. His disposition to do good to others, P. 87, 1. 126. Recompense. God rewarded him for his generous feeling tow^ard others by giving him all he wished for. P. 87, 1. 130. Dread abode. The grave. Let his faults remain out of sight and out of mind. P. 87, 1. 131. They alike. Both his merits and his frailties. 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